


The roots

by Niibeth



Category: Dredd (2012), Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Cruelty, Death, Kylo Amidala, M/M, Politics, Prince Kylo Ren, Slavery, Sold for scrap literally, That's Not How The Force Works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 06:14:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12150387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niibeth/pseuds/Niibeth
Summary: Based on the prompt insoftkyluxkinks:"Can we have some soft Clan Techie/Kylo or Ben Amidala? Maybe the handsome prince of Naboo rescues the sweet, worn-out cyborg who was captured and sold for scrap?"It made me think: if you have cyborg slaves and you don't need them anymore, how do you utilise them?





	The roots

The word “Prince” spoke of promise at 18. At 29 it was a description of a job. Constant, brilliant, tiresome job he did well. But so could a protocol droid. Meetings with community leaders, charity events, military maneuvers, operas and exhibitions mixed in a bright band, flights lost their novelty.

\- You should marry, - his almost-friend Finn has said once. He and Poe were an example of a pair that everybody loves and, probably, also secretly hates. “Even if they argue sometimes”, - Kylo thought, - “Their arguments can be published under Proper Family Disputes Resolution in some advice manual”.

He looked up a manual on royal Naboo weddings once and closed the issue of marriage. Even with the perfect bride, he’d be probably dead on the page of Guest Seating, long before The Flower Arrangement.

Still he could find a lover. There were not mere suggestions or opportunities, but a constant flow of offers. He looked into the minds of humans and aliens and saw big letters:

PRINCE

Sometimes letters “Kylo” followed, small, unnecessary. He could be Kiley as well. He could be Anabot.

…

Here in the city he could be truly anybody. Allied planet government boasted that they have won a War on Slavery – the turn of phrase was peculiar, and very modest investigation has shown him that they have organized a crime instead of eliminating it. Now, Kylo, in civilian clothes, walked through the slavers district, partly admiring the audacity of locals. First quarters were posh and business-like. The signs promised Beauty Pageants, Fights and even Skills Competitions or Employment. The farther he went – the seedier it got. Now there were Massage, Baths, Hotel for an Hour, downright Pleasure Parlor and Spare Parts.

Spare Parts?

He blinked and looked at the rusty door plaque again. What spare parts do you need in a kriffing Pleasure Parlor?

Kylo knocked at the door. Little window, higher than his head, opened and an annoyed looking alien peered at him.

\- What? – the creature asked finally.

It was strange, to be asked instead of getting a full report on current events, so Kylo paused and said:

\- Spare parts?

\- Buy or sell?

\- Sell.

\- Backdoor.

Rude merchant closed the window, leaving prince at a loss. “Stupid”, - he thought, but turned around the house. There was another metal door indeed, but a group of thugs outran him and started banging and calling. There were two burly guys. One held the hand of a much smaller person, a cyborg it seemed, who did very unassuming attempts of freeing his hand. He looked at Kylo with bright blue bionic eyes that looked too large for his face and whispered: “help”.

The truth came in a flash. Cyborg’s spare parts. But some cyborgs can die or become crippled without them. But if they are slaves… who cares?

He concentrated on the man’s thoughts:

HELP

Two sellers were down and unconscious before the same alien opened the back door and looked at Kylo again.

\- You? Why so loud?

\- Sorry to bother, - Kylo said, and then, out of spite, kicked one of the fallen guards and gestured to the merchant: You are welcome.

The mix of terror and admiration of cyborg’s face told him, that he did right.

He took cyborg’s hand and led him back to the palace. The quarters turned cleaner and smelled better as they went. Thugs turned into businessmen, dumps into gardens, brothels into mansions, truth into lie.

He took Techie to his own apartment and burdened servants with a list of orders: medical droid, bath, change of clothes, four meals… His guest looked like he severely lacked nutrition and Kylo felt hungry and alive. Queen called and scolded him politely via holo, but he mostly ignored the talk, distracted by servants walking back and forth and a pale noodle of a man in a towel, who reached shyly for the pack of clothes and hid back in a bathroom.

They ate in a silence. Techie looks times better clean, in a soft cobalt sweater and fitting black pants. He had nothing from a list named “Men I Like”, Kylo once had composed in his head. But Kylo wanted to comb that hair, the color of sunset, to see, if they are plane or wavy. Servants disapproved. Their minds read:

FILTH

After a half of a meal, Techie could hardly suppress a yawn. Kylo sent him to his own royal bed and settled on a sofa, preparing his plans. Tomorrow the courtiers will have a gossip fodder. Let it console them in the days of a city demise.

…

Months later, on Naboo, they walked in the gardens. Techie was new to the whole concept of parks and gardens, and Kylo has found out that he remembered something from unfortunate Flower Arrangement section, so he showed his… companion, he chose to think… the flowers and called their names.

\- Muscari, but they must be bigger and brighter. I don’t know what happened to them.

Techie reached the busy garden droid and returned with information.

\- They lack fertilizer.

\- In a royal garden?

…

\- You remember, there?

As was habitual, every time Techie talked of “there” Kylo touched him gently. And now too he gingerly touched his shoulder with the tips of his fingers.

\- Back there. I was told. After they take spare p-parts. They take donor organs then. And then, they use what is left, for, for fertilizer and p-pet food, I heard. So, now there is blockade…

Kylo’s hand stopped in motion. He froze. Techie turned to him and mirrored his gesture – gently touched his shoulder, as though they were going to dance.

\- Kylo, Kylo, – he called: It is not… I mean, I don’t know, where the fertilizer comes from. It is just what I have thought, not a fact.

Kylo looked into his mind. The big letters shined:

KYLO


End file.
